


Sentinels

by whtwlf



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Comedy, Gen, Guns, Military Speak, Secret Organizations, Survival Horror, Think Every Buddy Cop Film You've Ever Seen Plus Pokémon and Horror Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 12:04:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5584759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whtwlf/pseuds/whtwlf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sentient swords that can suck out human souls, floating balls of gas that can suffocate a person, balloon creatures that have a knack for floating away with children? The Pokémon world is a dangerous place. </p>
<p>Thus a secret division was created and tasked with defending humanity against these ghost-type Pokémon. Two field agents working for this Division must put aside their differences to get the job done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. B-Movie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just another day at the office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I plan on using the notes at the beginning of the chapter to introduce full names, ranks, and callsigns of new characters from the Division, and the end of chapter notes will have random trivia about the Division. 
> 
> New Characters:
> 
> Operative Bailey "Bud" McKenzie  
> Operative Samuel "Sirius" Grimly

"Oi Sirius, Sirius… what kind of flying type Pokemon do they keep in the zoo?"

She could hear the quiet static of an open mic and a heavy sigh. It was all the invitation she needed.

" _Zu_ bats." She was sure he could hear her wicked grin spreading. "Get it? Zoo-bats." She waited a few heartbeats for a response over the radio, a response she knew would never come, before breaking out into poorly stifled snickering.

“Lock it up, Bud. For the last time, have some radio discipline and focus,” came the slightly distorted, exasperated voice of her partner through the headset. She had to give him credit, he’d managed to put up with her fantastic puns for a solid five minutes. Surely a new record.

Still grinning, she raised her OD green spotting scope. Darkness blanketed the small, run down house they’d been sent to investigate. She began scanning at ten meter intervals for movement from the street to the abandoned home. Despite her vantage point from a nearby rooftop, she couldn’t see much. She lowered the scope and keyed her mic.

“Sirius, what do you call a romance movie on a DVD?”

“What, Bud,” he replied tersely, “What do you call a romance movie on a DVD?”

She bit her bottom lip, fighting the urge to laugh, “A luvdisc.”

The unmistakable sound of someone adjusting their gear came from below, “That’s it, I’m comin’ up there.”

“Whoops. That’ll have to wait, Sirius,” she shot back with a smirk, spotting an eerie, blue-violet glow from the second story window of a house down the block, “We’ve got movement, top floor.”

A frustrated groan came from below as Bailey tossed the scope back into its case. She swung her legs over the edge of the roof and slid down the ladder. Despite her considerable height and gear, her boots hit the pavement almost soundlessly. She turned to face her partner with a self satisfied grin, her free hand brushing back her short, sandy blond hair..

“Don’t worry, Sirius, there’ll be time for jokes later.”

Samuel’s slate grey eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head before he pulled his patrol cap low. “C’mon, Dante,” he said, addressing the Houndour at his side.

The two humans fell into formation, rifles at the ready. They moved quietly and with a practiced ease that could come only from working closely together for years. As they approached the house with combat spacing, Dante took point, searching for an entrance.

Calling it a house was more than a little generous. What might have once been a cozy two story cottage at the edge of town now looked like a mess of broken windows and ivy overgrowth. To top off the dilapidated look, it was surrounded by a crumbling cobblestone wall. It seemed like the kind of place that teenagers would dare each other to spend the night in during a cheesy horror flick that ended with the captain of the football team and head cheerleader making it out alive and going steady. Bailey’s face scrunched up in distaste at the notion.

Dante lead the pair through a gap in the wall around the back side of the property and up to the house. The unkempt brush and grass screened their approach. They pressed their backs against the cold brick work. Samuel covered Bailey as she slung her rifle and scaled the rusty metal latticework running up the side of the building.

Bailey clipped her rigger’s belt and a length of paracord to the rung closest to the window they had been scoping out. She inched her way over to peek inside, weapon once again at the ready. The corridor was mostly dark apart from the moon light spilling in and the faint glow coming from the staircase at the far end, and she could hear what sounded like a muffled voice inside. The black fatigue clad woman eased her way back towards her partner.

“Negative contacts,” she whispered down to Samuel, “But it looks like there might be something down on the first floor. I hear chattering in there too. We might need to speed this up a wee bit.”

A thoughtful look crossed Samuel’s face. Time for a distraction.

“Dante," said Samuel as be began climbing up after Bailey, "Head for the front door and break it down.” The Houndour tore off, full speed towards the front of the house in response.

The full tang knife sheathed on Bailey's vest came out in a flash and she slid it between the dual window panes. While she worked the simple hinge lock open, Samuel keyed his mic, "Control, we've got movement in the house. We're headin' in."

Control responded with the green light as the window was forced open. They vaulted through the fatal funnel, bringing their weapons to high ready.

The grating sounds of splintering wood and screeching metal mingled with screams from below. Dante.

The two ran full tilt towards the stair case with Bailey on point, one hand reaching for a pokeball clipped to her rigger’s belt.

The scene came into focus. A teenage boy was sprawled on the living room floor beside a broken coffee table, his back to the ground and hands raised in self defense. He stared wide eyed and unmoving at the strengthening flames of the three Chandelure hovering over him. Dante, covered in bits of pulverized wood, shot to the teen's side and stood with hackles raised and teeth bared, barking furiously.

"Dante! Go!"

As the Houdour rushed one Chandelure, fangs flashing white, Bailey's pokeball cleared the railing and she shouted over the din, "Blair, flank!"

With a flash of red, more than 170 pounds of Zoroark fury dropped from the second floor on top of another Chandelure and the battle began.

The civilian’s trance was broken and he ran screaming for safety. He dove over an ancient couch, sending a plume of dust into the air as he cleared it. Bailey would later find that adrenaline fueled display of athleticism quite a riot.

Samuel made a break for the couch as well, taking cover behind it next to the trembling young man.

“Can you hear me, sir? Are you alright?” He asked, giving the young man a once over. He shook his head furiously in response.

"N-no, the b-b-basement. She’s... she’s still trapped in the basement!” he stuttered, a trembling finger pointing in the direction of the kitchen.

Samuel’s eyes widened slightly and his head snapped up. “Bud, basement!”

“On it!”

She bolted from the base of the stairs, weapon up. She called over her shoulder, beckoning the Zoroark to her side, “Blair, on me!” Though looking a bit reluctant to leave the fight, the monster streaked to her side, dropping the unconscious Chandelure in her jaws unceremoniously onto the floor. Both of them charged toward the door leading to the basement level.

Blair took point, dipping her shoulder and slamming the door clean off its hinges. She transitioned to all fours and took the stairs two at a time with Bailey hot on her heels.

Standing ankle deep in stagnant, putrid water was a cornered teenage girl swinging a cast iron poker at a crowd of Litwick and Lament. Aside from the ghost Pokemon party, something about the scene struck Bailey as being a little off. Every swing of the girl’s poker grew slower as the flames burning above the Pokemon grew brighter. They were draining her spirit.

“Blair, night daze.” The command was barely out of Bailey’s mouth before Blair raised her powerful forearms, a thick crimson aura licking up from her shoulders to her claws. She balled her hands into fists, bringing them crashing down. A shock wave of water and dark energy shot out towards the mob. The creatures, now having met an actual challenge with the dark-type offensive, let out a cry of indignation and made a break for it.

“That’s right, get lost wee devils!” Bailey and Blair turned to clear the rest of the room. With the threat gone, the young woman dropped her make-shift weapon and slid along the wall into a crouch and placed her hands on her face. Bailey stooped down next to her, snapping her fingers, “Can you hear me, lass?”

The girl, looking as if she hadn’t slept in a week, nodded her head slowly.

“Why?” she murmured with considerable effort, raising a trembling hand to point at the exit where the deviant ghosts had retreated.

“Tch, they lured you lot in here because they wanted a few tasty souls. Good thing they didn’t have you surrounded for long,” She turned her attention back to the Zoroark pacing through the black water, “Pick her up and we’ll check on Sirius.”

The Zoroark gave a faint nod as it padded over to the half conscious young woman, scooping her up. Meanwhile, Bailey slowly moved up the stairs until she was at the doorway with her weapon raised. She called out, “Basement, clear! Three coming out.” The red, tell tale glow of pokeballs lit the far end of the house before Samuel shouted his reply, “First floor, all secure! I was able to capture all those Chandelure.”

“Come on then,” she murmured over her shoulder to the Zoroark. The group made for the entrance, careful to step over what was left of the front door.

While they had been inside, a clean up crew had cordoned off the area and an ambulance waiting on standby near the perimeter. A fire team rushed past them and into the house, ready to conduct a secondary sweep and round up the any stray ghost Pokemon.

The werewolf-like beast set the young woman down next to the paramedics. They began to check her over as she sat there in a stupor. As the teenage boy was led to the ambulance, their eyes locked. There was a spark of recognition that turned, rather suddenly, into what looked suspiciously to Bailey like burning anger.

“You _jerk_! You left me to die!” she hollered, an accusatory finger pointed in his face.

He placed his hands on his hips, puffing out his chest, “What? No! I was going to get _help_.”

“Is that why you were screeching like a Golbat and pushed me towards them?!”

At that he deflated, his face turning a brilliant red. Well, at least he had the decency to look sheepish. He raised his hands in defense for the second time that night and his tone pleading in a desperate attempt to mollify her, “Look, baby, it wasn’t-”

“Don’t you baby me, tool bag!”

Bailey watched the screaming match escalate with amusement dancing in her green eyes and an impish grin spreading across her face. She absentmindedly recalled her Zoroark.

“Uh, right… I think our work here is done, right Bud?” Samuel asked, recalling Dante to his pokeball and making a beeline for their ride home.

“Oh aye, we’d better get back to base and all that,” she answered, only halfway paying attention. Bailey glanced over her shoulder one last time at what was most probably two newly single teens. "So much for the jock ending up with the cheerleader."

“What’s that, Bud?” came Samuel, already having climbed into the driver’s seat.

“Oh, I was just asking a question, Sirius,” she said, still looking amused, “What do you call a knight from the middle ages in dragon armor?”

He slammed his door shut, she grinned.

"A dragonite."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Division Facts: Known plainly as the Ghost Division, this unit is a part of a larger organization meant to defend humanity against Pokemon that are unusually dangerous. This division, of course, specializes in ghost type Pokemon. Operatives that work in the field are referred to as Sentinels, those who work at division headquarters or protect it are called Sentries.


	2. Patience is a Virtue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Samuel questions his lot in life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New Character: Lead Operative Nikodemos “Nails” Sarkis

It wasn’t that Samuel hated pop music, he actually enjoyed just about anything on the radio. But listening to Bailey belt out the current top 40 between puns and cheesy jokes during commercial breaks was enough to test the patience of any mortal man. It had been two hours.

“Do you even know the lyrics to this one?” Samuel asked, his voice flat.

“Nope,” she sang cheerfully.

He knew that snapping at her would count as a victory in Bailey’s book, so he resigned himself to frowning in protest instead.

Not for the first time Samuel wondered what he had done to deserve this. He was a good troop, right? No disciplinary action, no botched missions, perfect scores on his annual performance tests. So why had leadership assigned her to him?

Bailey wasn’t a bad partner, far from it. Despite getting into her fair share of trouble, she had pretty good scores herself. She wasn’t much for planning missions, but she had a knack for reading a situation on the fly and making split second decisions. The talent had salvaged a few missions in their two year long partnership.

No, she wasn’t a bad partner at all, it was just that she never stopped messing around. He wasn’t sure serious was a word that even existed in her vocabulary. The only time she ever seemed to tone down the jokes was in the heat of a tough fight.

At the sight of their destination a few blocks down the road, Samuel nearly sighed in relief. Finally.

In the predawn light, their black four door sedan pulled up to a fenced in warehouse on the industrial side of town. The lot sat adjacent to small private airport and it looked as though it had seen better days. Much better days.

A heavyset man in a simple black security guard uniform ambled out of the shack by the gate with scanner in hand and made his way to the vehicle. Samuel had the driver side window down and two ID cards out. The guard wordlessly snatched the cards from Samuel's dark hand and scanned them.

“Good morning, Reggie,” Bailey greeted with a crooked smile.

The surly guard merely grunted in reply, looking less than thrilled. He handed the cards back to Samuel before walking to the rusted gate, removing the padlock, and rolling it open.

“Why do you feel the need to antagonize people?” Samuel asked when the window rolled back up. He drove through the open gate and up to one of the many garage doors on the east side of the warehouse.

Bailey stifled a yawn and shrugged, “Tch, I’m only being social, Sirius.”

Samuel shook his head in a halfhearted show of disapproval.

After a few moments the garage door began to open. It stopped when there was just enough clearance for the car. Samuel pulled into the garage and parked up next to the fleet of black, unmarked vehicles. The duo climbed out of the car, pulling their vests back on and slinging their rifles.

“Or you could try lettin’ folks alone so early in the morning,” he answered, making his way towards the elevator and a desk centered in the garage.

Behind the desk sat a young man, leaning back in his office chair with his head resting against the wall behind him. Samuel rolled his eyes at the sight of drool and the sound of light snoring. He tossed the keys. The clerk woke with a yelp at the sound of metal hitting the desk top.

Bailey pressed the down button on the panel beside the elevator, “Oh aye, it's me who should leave people be in the morning?”

“He was sleepin’ on post,” he defended with a grumble.

The pair stepped onto the elevator and crossed his arms over his chest, “I’d expect anyone else to do the same for me.”

She made a noncommittal noise, though when Samuel glanced over he could easily spot the amusement in her eyes. There was no winning with her.

“Hey,” he tried once more, “it’s better that I found ‘im instead of his supervisor.”

“Mhmm…”

Why did it still sound like he was losing even when she agreed with him?

With a happy ding, the metal doors of the elevator slid open and the pair stepped out.

Despite having worked at the Division for so long, the sight that greeted them never failed to impress him. The massive lobby they stepped into was a high ceiling affair, built to accommodate the ever vigilant Golurk that protected the facility.

Two of the colossal Pokemon in question flanked the elevator that acted as the primary entry point. Three more pairs guarded both sides of the long corridor circled the entire perimeter of the facility along with the smaller corridor that ran inward to the operations center. Though not visible to the entrance, Samuel knew even more of the great guardians kept watch at every junction of the small corridors that radiated out through the complex from center like spokes on a wheel. All of them stood in shadow, their glowing runes only the adding to their imposing air that they projected.

The lobby was silent save for the sound of their boots on the polished floor as they shuffled their way to the entry control point. Fatigue was finally starting to set in. The entry controllers that waited for them behind two way glass. The duo flashed their badges for inspection and were buzzed into the interior. After a quick stop to check their weapons and equipment into the armory, which was blessedly empty during the lull between shift changes, they made a beeline to their unit’s office.

Not more than a few seconds after entering the empty room, Bailey had already flopped onto the couch across from the Chief’s desk. She kicked her feet up onto the arm rest, laced her fingers behind her head, and closed her eyes. She looked entirely too comfortable.

“C’mon, Bud, we’re here for a debrief, not a nap,” he insisted, opting to stand instead.

She lazily opened one eye, looking up at him as he frowned, “I’m not going to rack out or anything.”

“And what if someone walks in? You know, someone like our handler. Lead Operative Sarkis ringin’ any bells?” His frowned deepened and he continued, "I'm not getting briefed because you decided to slack off."

“Oh come off it, Samuel, Nails isn’t going to care.”

He scowled out right, "Could you at least _pretend_ to take this seriously?"

She began to laugh, the beginnings of a reply on her lips.

“Two years and you two idiots still can't get along?” came the unmistakable and irritated voice of the supervisor in question, “Incredible. And that's _Lead Operative_ Nails to you, McKenzie.”

The laugh died in Bailey’s throat and she shot up from the couch, standing at attention.

  
Samuel fought the urge to run a hand down his face in frustration. He asked himself yet again what he'd done to deserve this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Division Facts: Field operatives are divided into the following ranks: Recruit - Operative - Lead Operative - Chief Operative - Assistant Commander - Commander
> 
> Lead Operatives are put in charge of up to 8 Operatives and Recruits at a time. They must act as leaders in the field, handlers behind the scenes, and on occasion, babysitters to unruly troops.


End file.
